Defiant
by belisaria.hald
Summary: Stahma decides to follow Kenya's advice to have something for herself. Alone in the bathhouse her mind starts wondering. Pointless little musing, shameless femslash. Please do not read if that's not your cup of tea.


**Disclaimer**: Defiance, its characters, story and insanely attractive cast obviously do not belong to me, unfortunatelly

**Author's note**: Once again I ask forgiveness for any possible mistake, I am not a native speaker so I probably made some mistake somewhere. Also, this is the first time I try something smutty, so please be good to me, I'm a newbie at this. Reviews are more than welcome!

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It is not like her, behaving like something less than the perfect Casti wife she is.

But she hasn't been really herself in the past few days, her mind a little bit detached even when surrounded by her boys, her body tingling with a soft electricity that has little to do with Datak's rough touches or the excitement over Alak's imminent wedding.

And tonight she has found herself alone for the first time in weeks, the house all hers while his son is out with Christie and her husband... well, she tries not to think about it, not even now that she can blame herself with the same identical sin. The only thing she wants to think of are the few hours of freedom and the unsettling, teenage-like need to act against the rules once more.

So she sends all the servants to their chambers, not really needing an excuse – she's a woman, yes, but she's still the mistress of this house, the wife of a man that could easily kill all their families out of a whim- and she just closes the bath's door behind herself.

It is not respectable for a Casti woman to bathe alone and she knows that. Casti women are all but pretty accessories to their husbands, that's why they bathe with them wearing skimpy clothes, taking care of their bodies like human housewives take care of the polished silver tea set. Sex isn't really a taboo for Castithans, but women's freedom... well that's a whole different story.

And now she's in the tub, alone, her head resting against the marble side, eyes closed. The only sound she can hear is the regular, numb drip from the faucet; everything else – the low voices of the servants, the noises on the nearby street, the screaming cries of her duties – has been securely closed outside the solid doors of the bathhouse.

She feels her body finally relax, the tension flowing out of her instantly replaced by the sense of pure bliss of being finally alone, finally able to allow the images she's been trying to push aside all week to appear behind her closed eyelids.

It is surprisingly easy for her mind to turn the pleasant feeling of warm water gently caressing her almost naked body into the feeling of soft hands running up and down her bare stomach, of an hot mouth lovingly enveloping her nipples, of small deft fingers running up her thighs.

She didn't expect Kenya to be so gentle, being a woman used to the manly ways of her husband among her other clients. But to be truthful she didn't expect what was meant to be a stop at the NeedWant to arrange an appointment for her son to end with herself lying in bed with the human prostitute.

And the woman was so sweet, asking her to dance, pouring her wine, not expecting anything from her but to relax and let go, for once. She loves her husband, loves him dearly for the strong, powerful man he is. And she considers him good in bed too, fierce and restless. But he's a Casti and a rich and dangerous one – regardless of what he used to be before the war – and no matter how valuable her intellect is to him, in the bed chamber she has always been the obliging Casti wife in charge to let him now how manly he is, how powerful. Kenya didn't need any act, she made her walls fall one at a time with a whispered word and a soft swipe of her tongue.

She feels her breath shorten and her body warming regardless of the fact that the water is getting colder.

She doesn't even need to reach between her legs to feel the woman's deft fingers teasing her at first, as if unsure of how to touch her - thinking about it now, she has probably been the first Casti woman for Kenya too, considering the strict rules of her culture – then more daring, entering her slowly while peppering her mouth of soft kisses, moving her hand at an agonizingly slow rhythm that made Stahma think she was going crazy. She begged and, in the same instant that the breathless "please" escaped her mouth, she understood that that was Kenya's point, to make her ask for something that was only for herself.

A low moan escapes from her mouth, the imaginary hand between her legs pushing her hard and fast towards her climax almost as easily as the young human did days before. Her left hand reaches out of the tub to ground herself from the wave of pleasure that's about to wash over her-

-Stahma. What are you doing?

Datak's voice pulls her out of her fantasy too fast and when her eyes meet his hard gaze she feels the weight of her duties fall on her shoulders all at once like an unbearable burden, while her body is still flushed and needy.

Right now she needs to deal with whatever happened to her husband. Later she will think of how to pay a second visit to the human girl.


End file.
